


Too Little Too Late

by scribblw



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Everything is just complicated with these two, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, L Lawliet - Freeform, L is trying to figure him out, Light Yagami - Freeform, Light holds a serious candle for L, M/M, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Pining, Unrequited Love, innocent!Light, is basically the best way to put it, ish, lawlight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblw/pseuds/scribblw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light has been released from imprisonment but the months of isolation have built up on the already unstable foundation of his psyche, culminating in a proposition born of fear and desperation.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give Me Just One Thing

"Ryuuzaki, let's- go to bed."

L's eyes drifted from the glaring screen that had been abusing them for several hours towards Light's soft voice as he otherwise made no move to acknowledge the request --or demand really, except it wasn't, not with the hesitance in his voice, even bricked up with self assurance as it was. The words had undoubtedly been picked out carefully before-hand, all of this scripted, rehearsed even, but that didn't necessarily mean it was staged. There was a vulnerability beneath it all, faintly showing through the cracks in the caricature, those that were barely visible from the outside and only that to the trained eye, but which L knew ran deep and jagged throughout Light's being, that even after months of observing and picking apart the layers and layers and layers of this boy's unstable but absolutely beautiful mind was mostly unfamiliar. He could easily spot it when Light was being insincere, to such an extent that it was as ridiculously obvious as if he was literally shoving rainbows up the asses of all those around, but any trace of actual honesty, as there'd seemed to be an abundance of since the end of his confinement, was completely mystifying. And the external evidence of the brokenness L had known was there all along, this unsure, insecure part of Light --Light, who before had kept is so deeply buried that he hadn't been conscious of it himself-- that had surfaced only a small handful times since the handcuffs had first closed over their wrists... It wasn't at all as satisfying as he would have imagined. 

It also made it slightly more difficult to discern exactly what he meant despite the clear invitation in the weight behind his words. It was his attitude, the somber stillness. There was a hesitance but also...acceptance. Of L? Of this situation? Of what he was asking for? This wasn't the Light he knew; this wasn't how he would have approached something like this. He would have been playful, in that way that had taken sharp edges and beaten them down to a glossy smooth; polished, that was Light. This was...soft. Fragile. Whatever was left after everything L knew of Light was gone. No, not everything, not quite. Because this was calculated. Conflicted. Thought through over and over, edited, revised, rewritten. That pre-thought, that careful control, it was familiar from L's dealings with Light but held an entirely different nature. That Light, Kira --perhaps by the time he'd gone into that cell there hadn't been any true piece of Light left-- used pretense and masks to project an alternate version of reality, the reality he had constructed in his head, that romanticized perspective of justice, of government, of brilliance --it was almost as if Light had been replaced completely by Kira at some point early on and Kira had just been acting out the role of a dedicated young prodigy, and now Kira had somehow been banished and Light returned. This Light --this light-- used pretense and calculation to accurately express reality, the reality he'd suddenly found himself in and of his reactions to it; of an overwhelmed, broken, insecure, worn, persevering, capable, incredible, human, teen-aged boy. L knew he didn't have much experience with truly expressing himself --because why would he? He'd never had anyone who would have anything meaningful to say in return, any of the comfort or the answers he'd be seeking-- and so he'd put thought behind this, made his words deliberate and concise, his expression shuttered, open but only to reveal what he chose to, in order to convey the relevant portion of what he was thinking: he wanted this.

What L wanted to know was why. Why now, when they still hadn't made any progress, when L still had nothing to reassure him that Light truly was innocent at the moment (other than his own ego thinking he knew Light, or at least had know Kira) or to explain how he possibly could be. Light knew that L was wary of him --he'd made it quite clear on multiple occasions just in case the handcuffs weren't enough to clue him in-- so why would he do this now when he knew that it would only make him more suspicious? But he must have also known that L didn't know, was unsure, of Light, of Kira, of everything, because L wouldn't have released him if he'd thought that Light really had been acting in that car, and he wouldn't have even put him in that situation and risked Chief Yagami's death and Kira's escape if he hadn't thought that Light was innocent, changed, and Light knew that. L might have tried to believe that this was a ploy, a way to get something from him, whether it be his trust or simply the knowledge that he'd duped the world's greatest detective into thinking that Light Yagami would ever want to sleep with him, would ever want him, or even just to know that the world's greatest detective wanted him; any of the three would have been plausible before that car, before the cell, before this Light, Light. So why would this Light want this? Comfort?

L knew that the past weeks had been taxing, for the entire Task Force but for the two of them most of all. For Light most of all. Because of L. He had probably been pushing too hard, taking out his frustration and depression over Kira on Light, pushing and pushing and pushing even though he'd thought he'd learned years ago that even people like Light could be pushed too far, they just keep pushing back, until they don't. It wasn't about breaking Kira like it had been before. Of course, there was the slight possibility that Light was still Kira or had some knowledge from his time as Kira but L had trouble considering it seriously because his judgement was never off, let alone that far off, so he wasn't still just harassing Light to get a confession out of him. But L knew that, and he knew exactly why he was so determined to push Light to the edge even now that the circumstances could have done that on their own, especially now, because Light was resilient; he'd never let on that it was too much, not even living with the constant threat of Kira and the lingering doubt and suspicion of the Task Force and the pressure to prove himself and to find something, anything, that would help them stop Kira. He was infinitely polite, infinitely reserved, and L just couldn't leave that alone. L wanted to see him let go, wanted to see his walls crumble, his layers unravel. He'd always wanted that, but this wasn't like with Kira, where there was a goal, a method, and the walls he was breaking were designed solely to keep him out. Light's control was purely that, control. Sanity. Wanting to strip that from him and watch him fall apart... It was irrational, selfish. Cruel. But he did, he wanted that, because he wanted to know Light, wanted to understand. He already felt that he did better than anyone else ever could, that Light could pour himself out and L would be able to pick up the pieces, but Light wouldn't, so L resorted to cracking him open, but he hadn't really thought it through because if he forced Light out of his shell there was no guarantee that the damage would be reparable. L didn't really want to break him, didn't want to lose this Light --Light. As the only one to really understand him, the only one who could offer him meaningful comfort, companionship, he should be the one to do so. He was the only one who Light had, in those scarce moments since they had been chained together, revealed some hint of vulnerability to. Like now. But studying his face, the somewhat grimly determined but slightly wavering expression, the molten emotion in his eyes, L knew this wasn't something as simple as a need for comfort.

Light wouldn't do something like this just for that anyways, just like he wouldn't lead Misa on without loving her. Love... Light was the kind of person to only do this for love. But he didn't love L, L was about 70% sure of that, but he was at the very least attracted to him, most likely intellectually as apposed to physically but maybe there was a physical aspect to it for him to want this. He wanted L, and must have for some time to finally resort to this, give in to it, because he was conceding something here no matter what he told himself. He was indulging a base desire, admitting that his control was not absolute, that he wasn't a perfect son --at least by his own warped definition and that of his father-- but this wasn't just sex, it was sex with L, so he was admitting that he wanted L, to both of them, and acknowledging whatever it was about himself that caused that. L strongly suspected that it was loneliness. Never having anyone to relate to, always keeping everything that made him different, everything that singled him out from the dull obscurity of his peers, that kept him up at night and made him question the world around him, all of it, bottled up inside had taken it's toll. Light needed someone to understand him, to validate his feelings and make them real, and he must have known that L could be that for him --he was so delightfully intelligent and had a fair share of understanding of L in his own right-- and so craved his company and that level of relationship. But for him to need someone like that, to have that kind of dependence on another person, went against every instinct he'd drilled into himself in order to survive under the endless expectations weighing on him, which went a long way to explain how conflicted he was about asking for this, but he had asked, in his own way. He had exposed himself, trusted L with this. He was demonstrating a willingness to give L exactly what he wanted, surrender.

This had to be handled carefully. L knew that his own harsher treatment of Light had most likely had some affect on this. Light was extremely troubled by L's insistence of his guilt, his complete lack of faith in him, or the appearance of such anyways. It was a rejection in a way and it must have only made Light feel more helpless, more desperate for acceptance, for trust, for someone, and those feelings were directed toward the person he wanted that from most. L had wanted that, had wanted him to crack under the pressure, and this was exactly that. Now he didn't want to take advantage of Light's vulnerability, didn't want this emotional power over him, which made now the worst possible time to sleep with him, but Light was in the worst possible frame of mind for him to explain and he couldn't just reject Light in such a tender state. He could only take what Light was offering and hope that he would be able to undo what he had done.


	2. Get Me Through The Night

Light didn't know how much time passed from when he said the words that had been running through his head for days, until L moved, slowly shuffling his feet from his chair to the floor, but then his eyes finally broke from Light's and Light could breathe again. His feet felt unnaturally light compared to the burning weight in his chest. It was like his legs had evaporated, or been filled with helium, and the surreality of it made his stomach turn, adding to the overall feeling of illness under his skin. L took the lead, walking unhurriedly to the elevator, and Light trailed behind him, feeling like he was floating. He swallowed dryly and shook his head in an attempt to clear it of the fog that was clouding his senses. The door closed them in and the air suddenly felt too close, suffocating. Light wasn't generally a very anxious person but he'd gotten used to it sometime since being in that cell. He didn't know if it had been the darkness, or the isolation, or maybe something separate from the imprisonment altogether; maybe L really had gotten to him. Light had already decided that L's accusations were what made him ask to be put in the cell in the first place. He'd gotten into Light's head, made him doubt himself. He'd wanted to put that doubt to rest, wanted L to trust him so he could trust himself, and he'd thought it had worked. Something had clicked for Light; being completely alone in the darkness with only himself for company had helped to clear his head and things had suddenly become a lot more clear to him. L had put him through that test with his dad but he'd expected Light to pass, Light was sure of it. So they would be okay and they could finally focus on catching the real Kira.

Except that the more Light thought about everything, the less sure he became. A lot of the past months was fuzzy; there were things he recalled doing that he couldn't think of the reasoning behind. Some of the blanks he could fill in with what he'd deduced based on circumstances and his own feelings, like why he'd wanted to be locked up, but there were other things he couldn't explain, discrepancies that made dark curls of apprehension twist sourly in his stomach. He was supposed to have proved himself but he was more confused than ever, and L, though he didn't seem to think that Light was Kira anymore, didn't exactly think he was innocent either. He was watching Light, always, as if he expected him to sprout a second head and start confessing at any moment, and it made Light feel so terribly alone, as if he'd never left that cell. Light wasn't generally a very emotional person, or at least he didn't let his own personal circumstances affect him when there were so many bigger things in the world to worry about, but he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed no matter how many times he told himself it didn't matter and that he had to focus on finding Kira. He felt like he'd done something awful and just didn't know what it was but would give it away somehow and L would see it, and then Light would lose the closest thing he had to a real friend, a real connection, and somehow that scared him more than anything else. He was a mess of raw nerves, wound more tightly each day until he felt like he would snap --until he wanted to.

They stepped out onto their floor in silence, just like on any other night but for the oppressive atmosphere between them that consisted of Light's nervousness and uncertainty. It weighed on him, pushed his head down, his eyes to the floor. He wondered, as he had countless times whiles considering this, whether it wasn't a mistake. He'd thought himself into circles, talked himself out of it again and again just to find himself continuing to think about it, wanting it. He was all mixed up, he knew that. L was partly responsible for how he'd been feeling after all. L and his manipulative little games and his watchful, knowing eyes. Light was confused. He associated L with safety, despite everything the man had put him through, because he was L and L was everything Light hated about the world corrected, and his suspicion of Light only made Light want his approval that much more. Ryuuzaki was...amazing, really. Brilliant. Light's head was just projecting his craving for company, confusing respect for...something else. Light knew that, but he'd still thought about it. Wanted it. Warmth and contact and connection. Light wasn't generally a very selfish person but this he needed. 

L stepped into their room in front of him and Light took a breath as he crossed the threshold, letting it ground him to the moment. They walked in and L hung back as Light strode past to the dresser; Light kept his eyes straight ahead but he could feel L's eyes on him as he sat on the edge of the bed opposite from L, his back to the detective's silent gaze, and bent to untie his shoes. He felt stiff under L's close inspection and it only rattled him further, making it more and more difficult for him to keep his mind on the task at hand, and he went through the process of undressing mostly on autopilot. His shoes were placed by the nightstand, his shirt and slacks neatly in the laundry hamper. Feeling uncomfortably exposed and hyper aware of L's presence and the implications, he pulled a pair of gray sweats over his bare legs. It was pointless if they were going to do what they going to do --counterproductive, but he wasn't ready for that. In fact, he felt as though he wouldn't ever be ready; he felt self-conscious and sick to his stomach and... Well, not afraid exactly, but nervous, but he'd asked for this, he wanted this, but this was L, but, that was exactly the point. 

He was shaking, and L was watching him. He froze for a second, unsure of what to do next, and then noticed L walking to the attached bathroom. Light turned, hesitantly, suddenly wishing not to be noticed, which, he had to remind himself, was completely irrational and would have been even if L wasn't already completely aware of his presence. It was almost strange to be standing side-by-side with L in front of the bathroom sink, cleaning their teeth, when he knew that eventually, probably very soon, they would go to bed, and then... Light felt himself heating up just thinking about it, mostly in his face, and he kept his eyes trained on the faucet, avoiding his almost-certainly-blushing reflection in the mirror. 

When they'd finished with the nightly routine, Light led the way out of the bathroom and to the side of the bed. L stepped closer to him and his breath caught and blush intensified --this was it, it had to- but L only unlocked the metal cuff from his own wrist and transferred it to the reinforced steel bar at the head of the bed, just like he did every night. The breath rushed back out before Light could stop it and L was looking at him and the detective must have noticed Light's reaction but his expression was completely unreadable and Light- kissed him.

He just couldn't take it anymore --the tension, the anticipation, and so, seeing L so close, looking back at him there by the bed, Light leaned in and pressed his lips to the other man's, quickly, so as not to allow himself a second's thought. He pulled away in the same instant and was left only with a vague impression of softness, and that only in the phantom sensation tingling on his lips. He looked away from L's face, not sure what he would find there, and realized that the detective hadn't even said anything, hadn't responded. He'd probably been thinking of how best to turn Light down, or just waiting for Light to give something away that he could use against him, thinking of the case; and Light was only jumping to conclusions and making a fool of himself. Shame washed down his spine, clogging his throat and chest with heat and pressure and pooling behind his eyes. He choked on it silently, wanting to run but still feeling odd and unsteady on his legs.

He didn't see L moving to sit on the edge of the bed where Light had taken his shoes off. Being pulled down in that direction was sudden and surprising and at first he thought he was falling. Then he was sprawled haphazardly over L's lap with his feet still touching the ground. L pulled him up further, handling and positioning him so he was straddling his lap with his knees; he was gentle but left no doubt that he was in control, to a point that Light felt small and even more powerless, but like that might be okay. Either that thought or the proximity to the detective had warmth blooming in his cheeks and his head spinning, and he looked down at L with hazy eyes. 

Light watched as, eyes open and staring, L leaned up and captured Light's mouth with his own. It was almost clinical, the way L's lips manipulated his, easing them apart to slip his tongue inside --it was just a process, a means to an end. But that thought hurt somehow, so Light pushed it away and focused only on reciprocating. He lost himself in the warmth against him, the shifting contact of their chests, the wet warmth of L's tongue in his mouth. It traced along his teeth and explored the insides of his cheeks, deep and thorough and wonderful. Light was grateful that they'd brushed first as they were both clean and fresh, but he could still taste the bitter residue of sweets on L's breath and he found himself seeking it out, pressing closer as the intensity grew, the sparks stoked by every inadvertent brush of skin.

"L..."

He didn't know what he was trying to say, didn't know how to find words for this situation or the frantic, confused jumble of feelings it inspired. He could only name the object of whatever mess of emotion was spilling out of him --as acknowledgement or acceptance, he wasn't sure, but it felt like its own sort of confession, for L's ears only.

"L."

The detective didn't seem to need the words, and only held Light closer, kissed him deeper, and it might have been wishful thinking, but Light chose to believe that his touch was more caring, after that.


End file.
